Orange Lollipop
by Shadow Sanctuary
Summary: Alone at last with Yami no Bakura, Ryou describes the pure quality of love's first kiss.


Author's Note: Ryou's affectionate title for Yami Bakura is "Nanashi," since the yami really doesn't have a real name (that I know of, at least). If you are aware of a title the millennium spirit used to go by in Ancient Egypt, please E-mail me at this address:

kaiba_kitty@hotmail.com

Thank-you!

~Shadow Sanctuary –or- Sweeti Shinigami

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_Orange Lollipop_

Humans are so similar to harps: if the right strings of their hearts are strummed, then the most stunning verbalizations resonate from their throat, music of their poetry that allows the person to accomplish anything from feeling the passionate flames of desire to walking on the crystal waters of their spirit.

                Somewhere in my memory, in a secret vault sheltered in the deepest realm of my mind, resided a treasure that only I held the key to unlocking. On rare occasions, I revisited that chamber when I needed to understand the value of emotions, why they were necessary to mortals, and what could possibly possess someone to be anything other than a sociopath. Most of all, I delved into the painfully beautiful recollection to achieve far more than reminiscing. 

I yearned to recall what I was and who I had been in that place of time and space.

                Diving into the river of my soul, I submerged myself in the heady streams of eternity, a location where the hands of clocks stood still and no one could disturb the tranquil territory  imbedded in my brain. There, lying on a geode of diamonds, was the mermaid of my dreams, a messenger of faith and trust that beckoned me to him. He gestured at me with elegantly tapered fingers, light yet simple movements that held me spellbound. A soft smile lifted the corners of my lips. True beauty was so difficult to come by in this lifetime, for it was a delicate essence to obtain in a world filled with self-righteous gods and devils. 

                His name, Nanashi, was such a common title to own, yet it was the word I cherished above every other one I had ever been taught. In Japanese, the direct translation for the term was "no name," so the composition of his identity possessed its separate dimensions of sweet sorrow. No matter how empty and vacant the skies seemed to be for my nameless wonder, I solemnly vowed to fill the black void he saw with stars, brilliant orbs sparkling with songs of hope that he never dared to fantasize of. 

                How I loved to gaze upon that visage, riddles wrapped within enigmas, mysteries swimming in the oceans of purple sunsets in his eyes. A certain intensity flared in the bright lavender spheres that peered back at me, breathtaking in all of their rich magnificence. Accenting the shadowy splendor of my partner's countenance were snowy tresses that were quite lengthy, but still luxurious to behold. Those playful strands of hair even curled at the ends, small pieces of his mane that I lovingly toyed with at my leisure. Being the only one who was allowed to ruffle his head, I usually took advantage of my esteemed station and abused the privilege whenever I chose to. Now was not the time for such foolery, though. What I wished to do required much more effort than making his preciously styled hair resemble matted cat fur. But how could I bring myself to achieve it? How was I to say what I've always yearned to, what I so badly ached to vocalize? What was restraining me? Dear spirits, why? Why couldn't I at least whisper the one divine phrase that has been weighing on me since the day I met her?

                Turning my head to the side, I reddened with shyness and closed my eyes. We were sitting so close together, yet I felt as if I was on a different planet, some distant soil that overwhelmed me with silence and intrigue. No matter how much my mind screamed at my voice box to speak, no audible speech chorused from my mouth. I was trapped in the center of a quiet room, a cold cruel universe, somewhere that dictated total and complete inertia from me. Biting on my lower lip, I fought to free myself from the constricting atmosphere I had somehow fallen into. Nanashi didn't speak a syllable, but I could hear the serene sound of his breathing reach my ears. That helped to calm me down and lessen my stage fright, unfortunately, it wasn't enough to bring me out of my unresponsive state. Nervously, I lifted one of my legs, set it down on the tiles, then replaced it with my other limb to re-cross them once more. This wasn't how I intended to spend my time alone with him, acting like a bashful boy who was asking a romantic interest to date him for the first time ever. That's exactly was similar to, I reasoned, some timid little child burying his head in his lap. If I was going to behave in a juvenile manner, I was better off running for Mommy's skirts than pursuing a lover.

                Sitting in the band hall by a keyboard, I fiddled with the base of a music stand. In order to gain some privacy from our classmates and school authorities, we escorted ourselves into one of the recording studios, situated by the choir area. The vicinity was a tiny place that private singing lessons were coached in, complete with an instrument for matching pitch with and a CD player that supplied karaoke tunes. Actually, I was a singer myself, so I comprehended the value of sight-reading, tone quality, crescendos, energy contained in the diaphragm, supporting breath during phrases, and other minor technicalities that provided the basis of good singing for aspiring pop idols. All of the knowledge of how to make glorious sounds was easy for me to re-create when I saw fit to; however, I couldn't even utter a single consonant with the wealth of intelligence I had in communications. 

                The snack I had rolling around inside my mouth was shrinking. Earlier in the afternoon, one of my favorite teachers, Mrs. Douglas, handed over a generous supply of candy to her students for meeting her musical expectations. Cherishing the sugar packed food with pride, I commanded myself over and over again not to chew on it. As with most nice things in life, I knew nothing lasted forever, so I swallowed the sliver of orange flavored junk food. Afterwards, I plucked the paper stick from my lips, discarding the sticky white material in a nearby trash can. 

"Are you finished with that lollipop yet?" my boyfriend inquired, hidden intentions underlying the tone of his voice.

Upon opening my eyes, I saw Nanashi staring at me intently, his head slightly cocked to the side in a cute clueless fashion. Smirking at the anime-like pose, I nodded.

"Yeah, why?" I asked in an amused and inquisitive manner. "You didn't want any, did you?"

                Responding to my falsely naive statement, he responded to me in his own special way. He craned his neck, stole up closer towards me, then lovingly placed both hands on my visage. For a moment that seemed to last forever, we gazed affectionately at each other, my emerald orbs meeting his amethyst ones in the waltz of feelings we had never experienced before, dancing in the ethereal mists that angels and certified saints painted for us. His warm breath caressed my cheek, surrounded me, filled me with a sensation of longing that I had always been very well acquainted with. Every phrase of vicious slander evaporated from my mind, for his angelic glow dried up the tears I had produced from depression, parents telling me that it was impossible for same-sex people to be sanctified in the eyes of God, principals making my life miserable for having my head on my boyfriend's shoulder, peers whispering behind my back about how disgusting we were, how repulsive and absolutely sick it was to care for someone who was the same gender. If I was condemned to hell for loving someone that was a male like myself, then so be it. I would rather walk for thousands of years as a damned ghost by my love's side than be in heaven and never have any recollection of crossing paths with him. 

With a tenderness that would melt the bitterness of a shallow soul's heart, he filled her lungs with air, gave me an expression of total devotion, and whispered the one phrase that I didn't have the courage to announce previously.

"Aishiteru, Ryou-chan." he said softly, looking at me with glassy orbs.

                Before I could reply, his lips met mine, brushing against my skin in innocent wonder. My heart pulsed slowly to the waves of our physical attraction, losing itself to the foamy crests that billowed out at sea. In the room next to ours, a piano was being played, its smooth, gentle melody floating on the wind, creating the ambiance of our spiritual bonding. I could almost see the feathers and sakura blossoms drifting around us, the fanciful articles floating by our shoulders in wispy flows of white and pink, carrying the fondness we felt towards each other with them in blissful surrender. Everyone has a different idea of what is wrong or right, what actions are praiseworthy in the eyes of their many gods, or what deeds warrant ever-lasting death by the scythe of the grim reaper or demons. No matter what terrible measures one takes to attain their innermost desires, love survives the animosity, greed, the ill-will that humans show at inopportune times. Love offers redemption from those destructive traits, destroys the prejudices one encounters in their existence, shatters all stereotypes and boundaries that no supreme good or evil entity originally could. This is, in an essence, what the typical saying, "love conquers all" means. Romance, in all of its splendid majesty, is blind, for it knows no gender, fear, or standard of society. It survives death, generates the after-life, is the hopes and dreams of even the most vindictive of humans. 

                And that is what I know love to be--the emotion I came into contact with when I first saw him, the sensation of treading on clouds when I was in his presence, and, most of all, the feeling I experienced when I was with him that legendary day when our lips touched. I could never want anymore than that, nor will I ever. He is my first love, an angel that makes me feel whole, my one and only that is the person just for me. People change, grow older, and face different circumstances throughout their lives, but this much I know is sincere--

True love lasts forever.  


End file.
